


Suledin

by Vyranai



Series: The Tales of Aevella Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aevella needs all the hugs, Depression, F/M, Hugs, post adamant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyranai/pseuds/Vyranai
Summary: After Adamant, Inquisitor Aevella Lavellan attempts to cope with the aftermath of the Fade.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really torture poor Aevella, don't I?

The day hadn't started out as bad, but as it wore on, Aevella felt the weariness settle over her. A creeping sadness deep within her coming to the surface. When the war table briefing came, she politely excused herself to confused expressions and retired to her quarters instead.

Aevella refused to admit just how bad Adamant had affected her. When the healers gave her looks of pity soon after her return to Skyhold, she steeled herself and turned away so that they wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. And after that, she swore not to show the pain it had caused to anyone. Least of all to her friends and advisor’s, knowing that they'd demand she get help before the agony ate her alive.

She locked the door of her room after her, pressing her forehead against the cool wood; her shoulders slumped and she slammed a fist against the stone wall to her left, cursing herself. Sure, the others had been rattled and shaken by their trip into the Fade, but they didn't break down about it. Solas for one had found it almost enjoyable, Aevella thought. The last time she'd gone down to the rotunda, he was writing down his account of the Fade along with endless notes. Every single word was a slap in the face for Aevella, a reminder that cut her raw.

Aevella collapsed onto her bed and curled up into a tight ball, willing herself not to fall asleep, to dream; that would take her back into the Fade, the last place she wanted to be. Very softly, she sung to herself a song in elven. It reminded her of the trees, the wideness of the forests in the Free Marches. Her mother had taught her the song, curled up together in the safety and warmth of the aravels. Only she wasn't here now. She was alone.

A soft knock sounded on the door. “Aevella?” Solas.

“Go away,” she grunted into her folded arms, burying her face deeper into them.

Half an hour later, the door rattled and clattered. A moment later and Aevella heard the tell-tale creak of the hinges as it opened, followed by the gruff and familiar voice of Varric. “If she punches you for asking me to break in, it's your own fault. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Thank you for your help, Master Tethras. I will take it from here.”

“No problem.” The door closed and footsteps sounded upon the stairs; Aevella's body tightened as they grew closer. “Aevella, you've been in here for nine hours now. People are beginning to worry.”

Had it really been that long? That explained the darkness and smattering of stars outside. She hadn't even lit a candle, cocooned in the shadows.

Solas didn't light a candle, merely sitting down on the edge of the bed near her head; she felt his weight next to her. “I would ask if you are fine, but such a question seems very poor indeed.”

“I _am_ fine,” Aevella muttered, eyes still closed. Her eyelids felt very heavy. “I was just tired.”

“Others might be content with your excuses, but I am not one of them. Sit up and look at me. Please.” There was no compromise in his voice; she either sat up or he made her.

Slowly, sluggishly, Aevella untangled her limbs and rose into a sitting position, face devoid of expression and eyes strangely empty. While she did so, Solas lit the candles in the room one by one, their light casting a soft glow about the walls and turning them amber. When he returned, he sat back down and faced her. “I know it hurts,” Solas told her softly, raising a hand and brushing a thumb across her cheek. “I know you're afraid.”

Aevella flinched away. “I am fine.”

“Ma da'banal'ras, you are far from that.” He leaned in and drew her into his chest. Aevella was so shocked that she didn't move, didn't think she could breathe. Very slowly, she twined her arms around him in return, burying her face into his chest as she clung to his tunic. “You are safe,” Solas assured her in a soothing tone. “Such a thing will never happen to you again, this I swear.”

Aevella unintentionally let out a small sob. “I am so weak,” she whispered. “It's pathetic.”

His hold on her tightened. “You are far from weak, Aevella. You needn't be ashamed of how you feel; Adamant was trying on us all, but we all choose to express the aftermath in different ways.”

Aevella shook her head slightly. “I'm the Inquisitor. I should be like Dorian then; able to seem unrattled.”

“But if you were like Dorian, you would not be Aevella. This is not a weakness of yours. If you were able to simply shrug the effects of Adamant off, what would you be?”

“Strong.”

“No, not real. You are not made of stone, Aevella. Your heart feels these pains very keenly, and that makes you who you are. The Inquisition does not need a statue to lead them, but someone who can take this agony and turn it against their enemies. Like you.”

Aevella swallowed hard. “I'm not sure if I can do that this time.”

“Of course you can. Your spirit is unwavering, Aevella. It burns more brightly than any of your peers and indeed more than anyone I have ever known. I... admire it. Your resilience and strength. Don't fall now.”

With another sob, Aevella squeezed her arms around his neck and hugged him as tight as possible, body a constant tremor. He returned the gesture with a hand on the back of her head, smoothing her fiery hair back. “Take your time,” Solas told her gently. “No one will mock you.”

Aevella smiled against his chest. “Have I told you recently that I love you? Because I feel like I should say it again.”

“Ar lath ma, Aevella.” He dipped his head down and Aevella reached up, pressing her lips to his own.

“Will you stay with me?” she murmured against his lips, hand smoothing the back of his tunic down.

“As long as you need.”

 

 


End file.
